"Richard Wadholm - From Here You Can See The Sunquists" - читать интересную книгу автора (Wadholm Richard)

"We should move on," he said. "Let these kids have their privacy."



She put a hand to his wrist as he reached for the touch pad. "One more minute," she
whispered. "They're almost done." She stared so intently that Mr. Sunquist wondered
what she was looking at. Her head tilted to her right, and her mouth gaped in little-girl
awe.



"I was a beauty in my day, wasn't I?" She smiled a little, as if to make a joke, but she
could not hide the shine on her eyes.



It must be the baby, he thought. The baby makes her sentimental. A half-dozen things
came to mind. All had the antiseptic cheer of a get-well card. He squeezed her hand.
"Steady-on, old girl. Let's not break the mood here."
Mrs. Sunquist nodded. Of course, of course. Suddenly she was laughing again. She
waved all his worried looks aside. Perhaps she had been having him on after all.

***




Part Two



A few minutes further up the road awaited the Hotel Mozambique they had known as
youngsters. White stucco bungalows crowded protectively around a medium-sized
black-bottom pool. The pool looked out the open end of the courtyard toward the sea.



Mr. Sunquist got them the room they always asked for, looking out through the top of a
date palm toward Mer Noire.



Mrs. Sunquist pushed open the window. A blood-warm breeze came in off the bay, sour
with brine, pungent with road tar from the asphalt bike paths just beyond the courtyard.



"What was the name of that soap opera they filmed down the beach?" Mrs. Sunquist
eased herself into the corner of the sill, hugging herself in the dreamy light that spilled
through the palms just beyond.